


i cast a spell over the west (to make you think of me)

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Demon Deals, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demons, Eventual Smut, Jealousy, M/M, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, Vandays, patrick summons demon!pete to get a bassist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15873999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Patrick’s mother had two basic rules— never fall in love, and never summon a demon. He couldn’t honor either.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! unbeta-ed, as always, so all mistakes are mine! please remember to support my writing and leave kudos/criticism if you liked!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick summons a demon.

It was the fifth of June, 2001, and Patrick Stump didn’t deserve this.

“You’re so fucking controlling! I can’t believe I ever fucking trusted you, going behind everyone’s backs and fixing tracks that you don’t think they did well?! What the fuck, Patrick?! What the hell?!” Anna’s voice came loud and thick with rage through his Nokia.

“Why do you fucking care? It’s not like you’re in the band!” Patrick was screaming now, a hand over his right ear and the other holding the front door to his mother’s house, cell phone held in place by his tilted shoulder and head. He clenched his teeth and hung up on her. He didn’t need a fucking girlfriend anyway if all she was going to do was fight with him over issues that she wasn’t involved in.

Patrick’s mother strode over to where he was standing and draped her hands over his shoulders to connect in front of his neck. “My baby got in a fight?” Patricia’s voice was laced with concern. “You want cookies?”

“I’m not a little kid, mom, I’m seventeen,” Patrick scowled, “but yeah, I’d like some cookies, please.” It was startling how quickly his tone changed from “angry teenager” to “sweet boy next door with manners”. Patricia patted him on the head lovingly. “M’kay. Tell me if you need anything, I’m sorry about your little fight.”

Patrick nodded absently, tapping away at the keys of his phone. “Joe’s gonna meet me at the cafe, can you call me when the cookies are ready?”

Patricia gave a thumbs-up from the kitchen, and Patrick walked out the door briskly.

**  
“Fuckin’ sucks, dude. Sorry about the fight.” Joe’s adenoidal voice had always been calming to Patrick, if not a bit irritating initially. 

“It’s chill, man. She’s gonna come around. Always does.” Patrick picked apart his macadamia nut cookie in a vicious act of betrayal towards his mother. Joe sipped his black coffee, and Patrick wasn’t sure how he could manage that much caffeine at this time of day. “Nah, dude. She called all of us, and, like, basically told us she hated your guts and you betrayed her and stuff like that. She’s dating Shane Morris, now, bro.”

Patrick put a hand to his lips to prevent himself from doing a spit-take of green tea all over Joe. “Wait, so, she’s sick of being betrayed, but I never betrayed her and the _solution_ to that is to start dating Shane fucking _Morris_ , the guy who pays chicks to blow him and has two-timed, like, every chick on this side of Lake Michigan?”

Joe nodded apologetically. “Yeah, pretty much, man. Everyone loves a critic, y’know? What happened, is,“ he took a swig of his coffee, “Jeanae walked in on you recording bass stuff over Jeanae’s bass stuff, got mad and told Anna, then left the band and got Anna to leave you. So basically,” another swig of coffee, “you’re short a girlfriend and _we’re_ short a bass player. Good fuckin’ job, Pat.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Don’t fuckin’ call me that, Trohman. I’ll get us a new bassist, just gimme some time, alright?”

Joe, still looking at Patrick, scrawled a lazy signature onto the check being given to him, and the latter wondered if Joe was going to check to make sure he wasn’t getting scammed. The answer was no. “Sure, dude. You got 24 hours, ‘kay? And you better not fucking mess around, or I’m gonna have to find us a bassist _and_ a singer.” Joe stood up to leave, but pointed a finger at Patrick once meeting the door. “Oh, by the way, you’re the singer now. We sound, like, way better with Andy.”

And with that, Joe left, and Patrick was too dumbfounded to move. He just lost his girlfriend, his bassist _and_ his position as drummer. And he had to find a new bassist in a day, or he was out of his own band. Whoop-dee-fuckin’-doo.

**  
It started out as a joke. 

_“Hey, c’mon, Chris... Chris, you’re like our only friend, we need you to do this for us, c’mon...” It was 11:26 PM and Patrick felt like a child begging for a toy. He kept up the pleads until he heard a sigh on the other end, followed by a click and dead air._

“It” was a quick Google search for “how to summon demons”, which quickly turned into “types of demons” which turned into “how to summon Baalberith”. Patrick was sure this was the one he wanted, and, god, he felt like an old lady picking out a cat. But this one aided in singing ability, and could turn any base metal to gold. That was an upside.

He wasn’t in the mood to kill a black chicken under the light of the moon, so Patrick crept into the kitchen. He pried open the door of the fridge, digging his fingers into the black suction seal of the appliance (he had read that the act would silence the suction noise of the door, and he either wasn’t doing it right, or it was _bullshit _). He carefully removed a chicken breast, setting it onto the carving board and slicing through it with a quick incision. He emptied the red blood into a vial, drank it down with a series of resulting gags and coughs, and repeated the spell. “Baalberith will do all of my work for twenty years and I shall recompense him!” Patrick’s voice boomed louder than he intended, and he muttered a string of curses. This was fucking _stupid___ , he was gonna wake up Kevin and then it’d all go to shit, what was he th—

A burst of black smoke, and Patrick almost screamed when a young, irritatingly handsome man with tattooed honey-gold skin, eyes like Jack Daniels whiskey and ebony hair appeared in front of him. “‘Sup. You called?”

**  
Patrick hissed at the demon to “please just shut up” as he lead Baalberith up the stairs and into his room. “So, um— Order one— is that how I say it? Fuck it, just come here, you need to get some clothes on.” Patrick opened his wardrobe and searched through it, mumbling to himself before selecting a red flannel shirt, a Green Day tee, and some ripped jeans. “Uh, try these on, you can wear my underwear... I hope that stuff fits you, I’m a little fat but I can’t have a naked demon walking around in my house.

”Is this a polite way of telling me you want me to get in your pants?” The dark-haired demon had a playful air to his smoky voice, the kind of voice Patrick wished he had. “So, uh, what’s your name, kid?” Baalberith made the inquiry of Patrick as he finished putting on the clothing, which accentuated his figure nicely. Patrick couldn’t help but stare. “Uh— Oh! My name— I— I’m Patrick. Patri-Patrick Stump. D-Do you have anything I can call you, like- other than Baalberith?” Patrick ran a hand through his copper hair, finding and massaging the naps of his neck.

“I mean, uh...” Baalberith paused quizzically, and his lips pulled into a wide, toothy smile as if he had gotten a really mischievous idea. “Yeah. Call me Peter. Nice to meet you, Patrick.”

“You too, Pete. You too.” Patrick reached out his right hand to Pete, and a burst of light emitted from their handshake. Patrick had a feeling tomorrow was going to be great.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick and Pete learn more about each other.

Patrick woke up to sunshine peeking through the blinds of his bedroom window and Peter stroking his nipple. He screamed, disgusted, and pulled the blankets towards his chest, pushing Pete away. Intense russet eyes stared into his own baby blues, and Pete looked kicked-puppy hurt. “Why’d you do that?”

Patrick attempt to sputter out a response, but all he could muster was a still, dumbfounded expression. “I-I should be asking _you_ that, dude. You fucking- you _molested_ \- you know what?” he took a deep breath and smiled despite his passive-aggressive tone. “It’s fine. Not a big deal, and you’re the demon anyway. You call the shots. Now, we’re gonna be fuckin’ late if we don’t eat and go soon.” 

Pete nodded, and spoke in an imitation, no, an _exact replica of Patrick’s voice from moments before. “You call the shots.”_

Patrick’s eyes widened in horror, but fell back down into a resting position as if he wasn’t surprised after all. “I- Let’s- Just go, okay? You go downstairs and tell my mom—the older lady with the sweaters—that you took me home and stayed the night, and you hope she doesn’t mind. And tell her I’ll be down soon. I have to get dressed, don’t come up here and touch my nips.”

Pete laughed. “Got it, Pattycakes.” He dashed down the stairs before Patrick could protest the nickname.

Patrick closed the door, beginning to strip off his clothes, and he walked over to the full-body mirror next to his bed to examine his naked form. Thin copper-blonde hair, rosy face. Prominent nose, blue eyes and full lips. It was in that moment that he realized the startling resemblance between him and a blob fish, and glanced down, self-consciously. Patrick made a mental note to ask Pete if there was anything he could do to fix him later. He grabbed a dark shirt so he wouldn’t look too pink in front of Pete, because _he’s a demon, you gotta have a good first impression, that’s, like, everything_. He grabbed his dad’s hat from off of the nightstand and took one final glance in the mirror. He’s seen worse.

Patrick braced himself heading down the stairs, but all he could hear was laughter. He let out a sigh of relief. “Hey, guys, what’s for breakfast?”

Kevin ran over to steal the hat off of Patrick’s head. “More like, who’s your boyfriend? Did you find him on LiveJournal?”

Patrick thought about jumping to get it back, but Patricia scolded Kevin before he had a chance, and placed his cap safely back on his head.

“Patrick isn’t into boys, you know that, Kevin,” Patricia playfully corrected her eldest son, “even if he was, I’d love him all the same, but Pete is just his friend— a _very handsome_ friend if I do say so myself.” Patrick went red in the cheeks.

“Okaymomwe’regoingnowI’llgrabapoptartseeyouthisafternoonbye.” Patrick grabbed Pete’s hand despite angry protests from the latter, quickly opening and closing the door on his way out. He slung his bag over his shoulder and panted. Breakfast took a lot out of him.

“What was that, dude? I was having fun in there. Your mom’s like, awesome, by the way, holy shit!” Pete smiled what Patrick considered to be his Pete Signature Smile, and Patrick scoffed like he didn’t love it. “I hate breakfast. It’s so hectic. Also, the chicks here are gonna love you, I feel like that needs to be said. You’re like the pop-punk heartthrob of their dreams.” Patrick’s eyes widened in realization, and he held an arm out to stop Pete from walking further. “Dude, I totally forgot. Uh, can you play bass guitar, like, by any chance? ‘Cause, uh, I summoned you, like, for that. My band needs a bassist, kind of.”

**  
Pete nodded. “Okay, okay! I got it dude, Joe has curly hair and Anna is short and blonde. Are these, like, the only people you know?”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “No, obviously, dude, I know other p—“ He was interrupted when a girl with pale skin and dark hair, about Patrick’s height, walked up to them.

“Hey, Patrick, who’s your friend?” The girl smiled coyly, pressing the tip of her finger to Patrick’s nose. His face went tomato red. “This- uh, this is Pete.. He’s in my band now. H-hi, Rebecca...”

Rebecca giggled and nodded. “You’re cute. Maybe I’ll come see you guys play?” Patrick nodded furiously, finding it troublesome to speak.

Pete answered for him. “Yeah, sounds great! Nice to meet you.” Rebecca nodded and walked away, but not before planting a small kiss on Patrick’s cheek. His lip quivered as she left, and Patrick was in awe. “D-dude... She kissed me.. She—“ He was interrupted by the bell’s ring. “You’re fucking magic, dude... Come to class with me...”

**  
Joe sat on the concrete stairs after school had ended, grinning smugly. “Who’s the friend, Stump? I hope he can play bass, because if that’s not the case, you’ve got another thing comin’,” Joe joked.

“This,” Patrick gestured to Pete, “is Pete. Your new bassist. Fuck you for not believing in me, man.”

Joe raised his eyebrows as if he was pretending to be impressed. “If we’re bein’ real, I knew you’d do it. You’d do anything for this fuckin’ band, and that’s why we love you. Up top.” He raised a hand, and Patrick’s met his in a high-five. “You wanna go to the club now to help set up, or do you guys need to get his bass?”

Patrick silently panicked. They hadn’t even thought about getting Pete a bass, was he left-handed or right-handed? Did he even know how to play? Could he teach him the parts in time? Was he even a good performer?

“My bass is at home, man. Stayed the night at ‘Trick’s, so it should be over there. We’ll meet you at the venue 30 minutes before?” Pete was a really quick thinker, Patrick had noticed.

**  
Pete walked out of the bathroom sporting tight, dark leather and a cherry-and-black bass guitar. Patrick despised the gross overuse of eyeliner, but the look was good on him.

“What, you like what you see?” Pete teased Patrick, striking various poses as if he were being photographed. “I might be pretty easy to summon, but this—“ he gestured to his crotch—“doesn’t come easy, Lunchbox.” Patrick’s face reddened at the nickname. Even the demon from Hell thought he was fat, and was he implying that Pete didn’t seem to notice he had offended Patrick, so he just let it slide.

“I, uh— are you ready? Do you think you can do the bass parts? We’re counting on you, man.” Patrick worried his bottom lip, hoping for a positive response.

“Of course, my prince,” Pete spoke in a plummy English accent, bowing for emphasis. “Aren’t I supposed to do your bidding, for, like, 20 years? You should trust me, man.”

Patrick scoffed. “Sorry, dude, but you’re kind of a _demon_. Like, a servant of Hell. Forgive me for being a little on the edge about trusting you.” Immediately, he regretted it.

“Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean you can’t trust me. Do you think I’m a bad person? Is that what this is?” Pete’s whole demeanor had changed from confident to hurt, and Patrick stuttered.

“I- Dude- I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? It’s just, like- I’m a little biased, I guess... I’ve been taught, like, all my life that demons are the bad guys and angels are the good guys. Why wouldn’t you be an angel?” Patrick stared sympathetically into Pete’s cognac eyes, confused.

Pete avoided his glance. “It’s a long story-I— I fucking killed myself, okay? That doesn’t exactly get you a boost into Heaven.. I’d need a wristband for that shit, alright?”

Patrick saw the tears welling up in Pete’s vision, and ran to comfort him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I never shoulda brought it up, god damn it...” Patrick wiped the tears from Pete’s eyes and pulled him into a firm hug. “I’d take you to Heaven with me.”


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete and Patrick play the show.

Pete pressed his head deep into where Patrick’s shoulder met his neck. He was all about shock value, all about sin, and Pete licked a hot stripe across the younger boy’s neck, savoring the blonde’s gentle grunts. Of course, he would stop if Patrick told him to, but this was the best part of performing. The adrenaline made you do crazy things, and Pete fucking loved this. He loved playing, he loved being with this kid, and as the final chords of “Saturday” rang out like punctuation, Pete screamed into his microphone. The kids went fucking insane, and Pete grinned, exerting a final “WE ARE FALL OUT BOY!” before running backstage with Joe, Patrick and Andy.

“Fall Out Boy? Dude, that’s not even close to the name we had, but I love it.” Andy was smiling ear to ear, and Pete didn’t know him, but he admitted that it was nice to have some appreciation around here.

Joe rested an arm on Pete’s shoulder, patting him on the back. “Who the fuck are you, man? You’re like, awesome at bass, and I’ve never even fuckin’ seen you before,” Joe mused. “Like, damn me, I wasn’t expecting Stump to come back with _this_ talented son of a bitch!”

Pete grinned. “Hey, Patrick, uh, dude? I need to talk to you about something if it’s alright,” but Patrick only frowned apologetically.

“Uh, actually, I promised Joe I’d talk to him about something after the show. It’ll only be a minute, though, ‘kay?” Pete nodded, but he was disappointed. He needed to talk to him _now_ , he needed to tell him about the show.

Patrick set his cherry-red guitar against the suede sofa and followed Joe outside cheerily. “What’s up, dude? Did I do something?” He stuck out his bottom lip and bit at it with his teeth— a nervous habit, and, _god_ , Patrick was nervous. But Joe only leaned forward and kissed him hard, grabbing Patrick by the shirt.

Patrick felt like a doll. A stupid, ugly blowup doll that guys who couldn’t get laid used until they _did_ get laid, and then he was fucking thrown asunder and forgotten about. He pushed Joe away angrily. “What the fuck, dude?”

Joe’s cheeks went red, and he tripped over his words clumsily. “Pa-Patrick, I— I’m sorry, dude, I just— god, the way you played tonight, you look like a fucking angel tonight and I’m just so in l—“

Patrick stopped him before he could finish. “Don’t fucking finish that sentence, Trohman. Don’t fucking do it, okay? This isn’t your fault, and I’m not mad at you, I just— I just got fucking dumped, dude! Am I just the guy that everyone picks up when they’re sick of sleeping alone and then throws to the side when they find someone who’s actually worth giving a shit over?” Patrick’s face was red, and his baby blue eyes were rimmed with tears. “We can forget about tonight, and not let this change anything between us, okay? But I never want to hear you say you love me again, because that’s not the truth and you _know_ I don’t like being lied to, Joe. Have a safe night,” Patrick mumbled his goodbyes, pulling his denim jacket closer towards him as he sniffled and walked back inside to see Pete. Upon seeing Patrick, Pete excitedly opened his lips to speak, but was stopped by the shorter boy holding his hand up to silence the other. “If you’re gonna tell me you love me, just fuckin’ can it, because I don’t want to hear it,” Patrick murmured, just loud enough for Pete to hear.

**  
“He fucking asked you out the day after she dumped you?! I’m gonna fuckin’ punch that loser, what the fuck?!” Pete clenched his teeth, and shoved his hands in his pockets angrily. “That’s not fuckin’ cool, dude, doesn’t he know Anna just fuckin’ left you?”

Patrick sighed. “Pete, you don’t have to get so mad, man. It’s not _that_ big of a deal, ‘kay?” He paused, then playfully added, “Thanks for looking out for me, Petey-pie.” Patrick giggled, bright eyes sparkling. “You wanna go home now?”

Pete nodded. “Sure, dude. Uh, what I wanted to talk about, earlier, it was just— the show was great, man. It was really good, made me feel better than I’ve felt in a long time.” Pete’s face blushed a warm red, and he hugged Patrick firmly before continuing to walk home. “Thank you for making me feel alive.”

**  
“Fuck, dude, you can’t stay in my house for like, 20 years, can you? Where’re you gonna sleep?” Patrick was pacing the room, his face buried in his hands in exasperation.

“No, I’ll just go invisible or something, don’t worry about me, dude. Just go to sleep and I’ll be here.” Pete smiled reassuringly, caressing Patrick’s cheek with a rough, scarred hand. “I’ll protect you,” Pete said. And so Patrick pulled the sheets over his body and fell asleep.

He awoke to pitch black, and Pete’s husky voice whispering in his ear, hands carding through his hair. Patrick emitted a low whine, half-asleep, and he immediately felt the hands leave. “Come back,” he whispered sleepily. “Feels nice...”

Patrick felt Pete lean towards him, warm breath grazing his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I know you told me not to do it anymore. I know it’s wrong, but we’re gonna be together for a while. We might as well get acquainted. I think I’m in love with my own sins. Is that wrong for someone like me?” Pete let out a low laugh, and Patrick felt a tightness low and deep in his stomach.

“Not wrong... I think, sometimes, everyone kind of falls in love with their own sins, you know? You know something’s wrong, but you can’t stop doing it, it’s practically a part of you..” Patrick hated when he got deep ideas like this. It made him feel stupid and pretentious. “I don’t mind.. But, uh, have you touched my cock?”

“What, no— no, no, no. I would never, dude, I _swear_ —“ Pete started getting frantic, but Patrick cut him off. “‘s okay, I believe you. I just— I’m straight, okay? I like girls. I know you’re kinda touchy-feely and all, but just— I want space there. Anywhere but below the waist, you can touch.” Pete had started drumming his fingers in a slow rhythm on Patrick’s belly, and he whispered, “Okay.”

**  
“God, Patrick, you’re so— fuck, you’re tight. You’re perfect.. So perfect...” Pete was naked, and Patrick didn’t think he had ever seen a more perfect figure in the world, despite what Pete was saying about Patrick’s own body. Patrick looked down at himself, and _fuck_ , no wonder Pete was so enthralled with him. He was older, he confirmed, from the way his abs were visible through his taut and lean stomach. He wouldn’t be able to get in this kind of shape anytime soon. His cock was huge, dark and lust-gorged, and god, Pete looked even better—

Patrick jolted awake to moist boxers and Pete shaking him by the shoulders. “Dude, we’re gonna be fucking late for school!” Pete looked and sounded like a panicked dad, trying to get Patrick out of bed. “I was touching you and I accidentally made both of us invisible and I think she—your mom— thought you left already? And now, we’re like, late for school, and she doesn’t know you’re not there, and—“ Patrick pressed a finger to Pete’s lips.

“Fucking calm down and listen, Pete. I‘m gonna go to school, okay? We just— Let’s go, it’s not as big a deal as you’re making it out to be. Watch, I- I’m going. A-Are you leaving? I can’t really tell when you’re invisible, but I have to get dressed..”

Pete chuckled. “Yeah, dude, I’m leaving. See you outside when you’re done, I’ll have a surprise waiting.”

Patrick nodded and began to strip down, noticing along the way that he looked nothing like the graceful form he had been in his dream. He whined quietly, discontent with the way his body curved where it wasn’t supposed to, and how he barely even looked like a boy much less a man. It embarrassed him to think that kids in his class were already getting laid and he was still looking like this every day. It _mortified_ him that he didn’t notice it before. He made a disgusted face, and went to pick out an outfit, something that would get him attention. Girl attention.

**  
“Holy shit, Patrick, you look really good...” Patrick grinned, hopping into the passenger seat of the black Corvette. “So, this’s the surprise? Wow, nicely done... The girls are gonna practically hang off of you, man!”

“Nope. I’m not gonna be the one driving, Trickster, and the girls always go for the guy driving.” Pete tossed Patrick the keys, and the blonde gasped. “Holy shit, man... Holy shit..”

The last two things Patrick saw before blacking out were Rebecca Hyde kissing him on the lips and Pete tackling her to the ground.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions are made, and feelings are discovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to my new beta, dallon @epilogues. (they didn’t actually beta this one, but still.) dedicated to everyone who’s found a love in someone they never knew would feel the same.

Patrick woke up in the hospital to his mother crying over him. “M-mom? Mom...” When he spoke, his throat croaked in pain like it didn’t approve of the words he was trying to say. It frustrated Patrick, but got Patricia’s attention.

“Oh, baby... Honey, oh _god_... I was so worried, we were all worried... You’ve been asleep two days, baby... Some man hit you and another girl at school.” Patricia’s electric blue eyes glistened with tears. “He was older, with gray hair and a mustache, and nobody knew who he was, but he drove you to school... God, we were all so worried, please never, ever talk to strangers again... I’m so glad you’re awake, and that he didn’t—” She stopped herself, but Patrick got the idea.

Patrick furrowed his brow, thinking to himself. What the fuck? That was Pete, that wasn’t some old guy! Did Pete do something to change his appearance? God, Patrick had a thing or two to say to Pete when he saw him again.

His mother waved a hand in front of Patrick. “Baby? Is something wrong?”

Patrick shook his head furiously. “No, I just— Where’s Rebecca, is she okay?”

Patricia nodded. “She’s in another room,” she said, like he didn’t already fucking notice that. “I’ll tell her you were worrying about her. She was afraid you might’ve died, you know—“ She was cut off by a nurse walking into the room.

“Hey, Patrick, you feelin’ alright, sugar?” He didn’t appreciate being compared to a lump of fucking sugar, but nodded. “Is there anyone else here for me? I want to see everyone...”

The nurse nodded. She was pretty, with winged eyeliner and dark skin. Her name tag read “Maxine”. Patrick found it embarrassing that his first thought was that he’d love to moan that name. “There’s a boy out here for you, he says his name is Pete? He brought you some things,” Maxine noted cheerfully. “Want me to bring him in?”

Patrick begrudgingly nodded, pretending he wanted to see Pete, and Patricia picked up her bags to leave, ruffling Patrick’s hair. “You should be discharged later, baby,” she said, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’m so sorry that this happened to you, I love you so much, okay? Have fun with your friend!”

His mother left, and half of Patrick wanted to jump in her purse and leave with her as Pete, handsome, rugged, sinfully perfect Pete, entered the room. He shook his wet hair, and Patrick groaned. “You’re not a fucking dog!”

“It was rainin’, ‘Trick. A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do, okay? I’m not gonna walk around with wet hair!” Patrick rolled his eyes like he didn’t secretly love it.

“So, uh, remind me why you’re here, why don’t you? Because this is literally your fault, you know,” Patrick sighed.

Pete nodded. “I know, and I’m sorry. I wanted to visit you to apologize, and also because, like, I’ve had my fair share of hospital visits. I wanted to make it less lonely.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled The Smile at Patrick. It made his senses blurry, and his heart fuzzy. “I think maybe it’s time for you to know more about me..” Patrick nodded, not knowing what to expect, but was excited nonetheless. “I was born here, y’know. In Chicago. I was so happy to learn that you were from here, that I was back home again...” 

Patrick smiled. “Glad to make you happy, man.”

Pete just nodded and continued. “I had two siblings. A brother and a sister. I picked on them a lot, but I loved them.” He was tearing up now. “I went to school in Wilmette, and I overdosed in April of 2001. Worst mistake of my life, dude...” He was crying erratically into his hands, and Patrick gasped. It hadn’t been too long since he’d been dead, it really hadn’t.

Patrick licked his lips thoughtfully. “What if we went to go see your family? You think they’d still be here?”

**  
It was the 11th of June when Patrick was discharged, and he felt his breath catch in his throat as he and Pete arrived at a small family home in Wilmette. They somberly opened the doors of the Corvette, stepping out and walking slowly across the driveway to get to the door. Patrick felt his heart float as their knocks to the door were answered by a tall, older woman with dark skin and russet eyes that matched Pete’s. Her smile dropped when she saw him. “P-Peter? Baby, is that you?”

Pete cried into her shirt, hugging her firmly. “Mom, oh god, mom, I was so scared, it was so scary, mom...” Patrick felt out of place and awkward, but smiled. Pete’s mother gasped and gestured for him to walk forward.

“Are you— are you the angel that brought him back to me?” Patrick didn’t know how to respond, but Pete answered for him.

“He’s a golden angel, ma... He brought me back, and his name is Patrick, and I’m in love with him,” Pete said, smiling wide through his tears. “He’s golden, absolutely golden.”

Pete’s mother gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. “Thank you. Thank you so much, thank you for bringing him back to me...”

Patrick grinned back at her. “It’s no problem, ma’am... He told me about how he missed you and I thought that bringing him home would be the right thing to do...”

Pete’s mom smiled. “You can call me Dale, baby... Listen, I’m gonna spend some time with my boy, but you can come around anytime you like, alright?”

Patrick’s eyes glistened with joy. He couldn’t believe he had brought a family back together. He couldn’t believe Pete had said he _loved_ him. “Thank you, Dale. I’ll see you around.”

The last thing Patrick saw as he ran to the Corvette was Pete whispering “Thank you”.

“You’re welcome, darling,” he said to himself.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started when Patrick found Pete’s LiveJournal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thank you to my beta @epilogues *kissy face*! no smut until next chap

It started when Patrick found Pete’s LiveJournal.

Suddenly, his life was taken over by _i’m in love with my own sins_ , shortly followed by _me and you, setting in a honeymoon_. Patrick found Pete’s words enchanting, and he told him so, only to be met with scoffs and questions about how Patrick found all that shit in the first place. Patrick didn’t think it was shit. He thought Pete’s words were beautiful, like vines growing on an old house, sporting flowers as white as a line of pure cocaine, and fuck it, the flowers might as well actually have cocaine on them because Patrick was addicted. Addicted to Pete and his words and the way he wrote.

The day after he asked about the page, Patrick checked the LiveJournal, and to his surprise, found a new entry.

_martin, you are the best song ever written. my heart matches the beat (of the world) perfectly. i feel at peace with everything, which is rare for me. i'm out of breath but still grinning ear to ear. every time you stumble over your words but you keep smiling. it makes this worth it. feel the echoes of the stadium flushing through your body. cry out and raise your fists into the air. this is your anthem. nothing would ever matter if you weren't around. this has always been our fight club. dance until your shoes wear away and your legs refuse to work. sing until your lips are dry and chapped. jump until the earth shakes with your spirit. most importantly: shine smiles on me as i walk by. thank you for being my light. i cannot make it without you. we're just dressing up what's always been there. four boys and the crowd of lunatics who love them. this makes everything worth it._

Patrick felt himself falling into a hole he could never get out of, because ever since Pete went home he had been lonely, but now he felt complete. The hole in his heart had been filled by words, confirmations, promises, that maybe Pete felt the same way. Patrick hadn’t even noticed he had fallen in love until he had gone too deep, and there was no way out.

He made an account on the website, username “patrickstump84”. He let Pete’s words pull him in like quicksand, and god, he could feel himself drowning under the weight of this. He typed out a message he hoped Pete would see, cherish, smile at, _love_.

_i’m in love with you. i can’t believe i’m in love with you, but i am and i want to be with you. come here please i need you_

Pete appeared in front of him after what felt like only a second, and he could feel himself falling when he saw the worried look on Pete’s face. “Please tell me it’s not true, Patrick. Please tell me you aren’t in love with me.”

Patrick felt his heart shatter to pieces on the floor, because _no_. Pete didn’t feel the same, and, god, he wanted to disappear. “Pete, no, Pete, I— Please— I’m sorry, I’m sorry I said I loved you, please just make me disappear. I don’t want to be here anymore, Pete. I’m in love with you and I can’t stay twenty more years with you if you don’t feel the same way I do, Pete. It’s torture, that’s what it is. And if you can’t get rid of the bond any other way, just zap me to the fucking ground.” He felt his heart pour out of his mouth, chest aching from the pain of rejection and embarrassment.

“Patrick, no. That’s not what’s going on, Patrick... I do feel the same way, I just— You’re in love with a _demon_ , babe. I’m, like, the root of all evil, no exaggeration. You’re pure, you’re golden, you came to me on gold-glittered wings with a halo and a voice like Heaven. Angels and demons aren’t s’posed to be together, ‘Tricky.”

“‘M not an angel. I just want you to kiss me,” Patrick admitted, and Pete complied. His lips against his love’s felt velvet-soft, wet but not uncomfortable. He wanted to take the sadness out of Pete with this kiss, and he pushed into him hard, whining at the warm friction of their cocks. Pete was grabbing at his shirt, his hair, every bit of Patrick he could reach, and they stumbled back, tripping onto the bed. Patrick felt a moan escape him as he felt up Pete’s shirt, tracing dark tattoos and kissing over ochre skin. “Did you mean everything you said on your journal?”

“Everything.”


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Patrick gets caught, Rebecca comes back and Pete gets hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i lied, no peterick smut this chapter, only boner-killing angst. note that i am currently in a very bad financial situation and am now taking commissions! i will write LITERALLY ANYTHING, a dollar per 100 words. e-mail me with commission inquiries at atheiavorsik@gmail.com, help a struggling lgbt author

Patrick never had good luck when it came to falling in love.   
  
He felt the tough pads of Pete’s skin trace his jawline tantalizingly, and his hips bucked forward. Pete was kind of like the key to getting Patrick like this, because _sure, Anna was good in bed, but Patrick had never been so aroused in his life_.

Pete pulled at Patrick’s hoodie. “I’m— I want to see you, babe—“

The pair were interrupted by the opening of the bedroom door, and Patrick quickly pulled away, wiping his spit-slick lips against his sleeve. He felt his cheeks reddening as his mom gasped. “I- Am I interrupting something? Wait— Patrick, are you-“

Patrick’s eyes darted to the floor, and Pete brushed a hand over the blonde’s neck lovingly. “Yeah,” Patrick declared. “Yeah, mom, I- I like guys, okay?” He stared at the carpet, ashamed, and was surprised when his mother strode over, embracing him tightly. “I love you, baby. I’ll love you no matter what, okay? I want you to know that... this—“ she glanced at Pete, “This is fine with me, okay? I’m not gonna try and keep you from— from being gay, or anything, because that’s not gonna get us anywhere. I love you a lot and I want you to know that even if certain groups of people don’t fully accept or understand it, I do. And I want you to be happy, honey.. That’s all I want.”

Patrick nodded, emitting a laugh out of the surprise and joy he found in being accepted. Patricia smiled back. “Okay, lovebirds, I’m gonna go to the store.” She turned to Pete. “Take care of him, okay? He’s important to me. I trust you, Pete.”

With that, Patrick’s mother left the room, and Patrick sighed, laying back against his dark bedsheets. Pete tangled his fingers against Patrick’s scalp, resting the heel of his palm against Patrick’s left temple and sighing in adoration. “That went well... You have a good mom.”

Patrick nodded absently. “Can we go somewhere? Like, uh— There’s a party tonight, and I wasn’t really, like, _directly_ invited, but uh, we can still go?”

Pete raised an eyebrow, hoisting himself off the bed. “Let’s go, party crasher.”

**  
The atmosphere was vibrant, the music was loud, and Patrick felt himself shaking with each bump of the bass. Pete had gone to get drinks for the both of them, and he had resorted to sitting quietly on a barstool while waiting. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and jerked around only to find himself pulled into a kiss. Warm, soft, pink lips pecked at his pale skin, and he felt himself melting under the weight of _Rebecca_.

He moaned out the name like a question, and he felt himself caught halfway between wanting more, wanting her to pull down that skirt and strip for him, and his newfound love for Pete. Rebecca grabbed Patrick by his shirt, feeling down into his jeans, and pulled him into her bedroom without separating their mouths. Patrick weakly mumbled for her to leave, _go away_ because this was wrong and he had done this with Pete only hours before, but he had wanted this since seventh grade and _Rebecca would be so much less trouble_. He could settle down with her, have kids, finally succeed at something in his life.

Patrick gave in, unbuckling his jeans and propping himself up on the bed with his elbows as she blew him. He felt his prick stiffen as she licked across him, and the way her dark curls brushed his alabaster thighs made him want to come on the spot. He set a hand on her head in encouragement, and gasped when she pulled off of his dick. “You— You’re really fucking fat,” she said between pants, “like, it’s super hot.” Patrick felt mortified, and he didn’t know what to say. “I’m so into fatasses, you don’t even know the half of i—“ He pulled away just as she pursed her lips to suck him down again.

“Becky, I can’t do this. I can’t, okay? You’re— You’re so pretty, it’s not you, it’s just— I get now that all of the being nice to me stuff was just to satisfy your dumb kink, and I respect myself too much for this to continue... Just— I know you’ll find someone else, okay? It’s just not gonna be me.” Patrick miserably pulled his boxers and jeans back up over his softening cock and opened the bedroom door to go find Pete.

As Patrick expected, Pete was by the bar with the drinks. “Hey, ‘Trick! Was lookin’ for you, dude.” Patrick smiled guiltily, planting a kiss on the other’s dark lips in lieu of answer. “I have somethin’ to show you,” Pete admitted, and Patrick could taste the bourbon on his lips as he spoke.

“Alright,” Patrick complied, following Pete upstairs into an empty bedroom. His eyes narrowed, because, god, he _knew_ where this was going, and he couldn’t bear to go through with this after what he just did behind Pete’s back. His worries were quickly answered by a strong shove against the room’s crimson walls, and Patrick groaned.

“I know what you did in the fucking dark, Patrick. I know what you did behind my back, okay?” Pete pinned Patrick by the wrists, black painted nails pressing into veins. Patrick had never felt such intensity in his seventeen years of living, and he had seen _The Matrix_. “I saw you, I saw her with you, touching you,” Pete growled, dark eyes glowing, but suddenly dropped his intimidating expression and let go of Patrick’s wrists. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be— I shouldn’t be controlling you. You can do what you want, I just— I thought we had something. I thought you really meant it when you told me you loved me.”

**Author's Note:**

> same time tomorrow?


End file.
